Page 77 of Book Boyfriends
“Okay,” Lars says, nodding but not making a move. His violet eyes are fixed on my brother, but his massive frame remains glued to the chair.
From across the bar, Jackson stands motionless, his brow wrinkled, and his mouth stretched into a confused smile. No doubt, he’s perplexed by his sister and her date sitting across the bar, staring at him.
“Move it, wolfy”—I kick his shin—“or that guy in the corner checking Jackson out will make his move.”
Eyes narrowed, his head snaps to a tall, ginger-haired man smiling Jackson’s way. There’s little concern that my brother will reciprocate the redhead’s attention with how his focus is locked onhiswerewolf, but I’ll use it as motivation, nonetheless.
“The hell he will,” he grits. Attention zeroed in on Jackson, Lars prowls toward the axe ring.
My smile falters with Jackson’s at first shocked, and then annoyed expression. The two of them go back and forth about something; Lars scrubbing his palm down his face and Jackson wagging a finger at him. Features pinched, Jackson aims his free hand from across the room toward me. It’s clear their argument isn’t about Jackson’s axe-throwing position. It’s about me.
Jackson may like Lars, but he’ll never go for it. As brash as my brother is, his moral compass is due north. In no world would he go for anyone that he thought I was interested in. Even if he and Hope hadn’t sat beside me soothing away my tears after the truth about Lena and Will came out, my brother isn’t built to not think of others. He’s a protector.
“Jackson!” Arms flailing in the air, I scream over the crowd.
Several people turn to stare at me, including my brother. Confusion twists his features.
“Let Lars show you!” I cup my hands around my mouth to boost my shout.
A silent conversation plays between our expressions. His is confused. Mine is coaxing.
He likes you. Go for it, I mouth.
He just gapes until I give him a thumbs up.
Still a little unsure, he peers between Lars and me and then nods. A tentative smile blooming, he then utters something to Lars. With a hesitant, but hopeful expression covering his face, Lars places his big hands on Jackson’s waist. Aiming him toward the target, he towers over my brother. His careful movement paints the picture of what’s happening. Lars’s mouth is inches from Jackson’s ear, his gruff voice instructing him. His strong hands coasting from Jackson’s hips to his arm, guiding him in the proper axe-throwing technique.
“Someone’s getting laid tonight,” I laughingly mutter to myself before twisting back in my seat.
As happy as I am for my brother and Lars, this does complicate things. Something I hadn’t thought of until just now. What if this isn’t just a little flirtation but something real between them? If I undo the wish, what happens to Lars? To my brother? And if I’m unable to undo it, do I pick Lars? Will I have to marry him? How will my brother feel about that?
Stop spiraling!With a long breath, I pick up my cider. Things are already a mess, and I just keep making them messier. At least this will offer a little happiness to both Lars and Jackson, even if it may only be temporary.
“Did your date just leave you for your brother?”
Looking up, I find Davis, a furrow notching his brow, peering between me and my brother. Lars stands a few feet off to the side, his complete focus on Jackson as he throws his axe.
“Yeah.” I take a long pull of my drink. “But Lars is just a friend. One who’s clearly into my brother,” I chuckle, watching Lars lift Jackson into a swinging hug after he hits the bullseye.
“Clearly.” Laughter vibrates in Davis’s chest. “May I?” He taps the top of the chair Lars had vacated.
“Of course.”
He takes the seat. “So, Lars? Like in your book?”
“Yeah.” I take another quick pull from my drink.
Davis’s dedication to his romance education means he’s making his way through my books. Last night, while Estelle kicked our asses at Uno, he’d shared that he was almost done withThe Duke’s Darling. Which means he may have started reading Lars’s book and may be able to clock the similarities between the books and the two men he’s met.
I don’t want to lie to him, but how does one explain that they made a wish with a lucky penny that accidentally brought three fictional men to life? Even I have trouble at times believing this, and I’m living it.
“You really do cannibalize your life for your books.” His chuckle is warm.
“You have no idea.” I huff a laugh.
“Was Lord James based on anyone?”
“He wasn’t, but now I’m not so sure.” Waving my right hand in the air, I blow out a breath that sounds like helicopter bladeswhooshing through the air. “Recently, I’ve discovered that I’ve pulled from people in my life without knowing.”
